Discordant Harmonies
by Mister Melancholy
Summary: A series of Jack/Simon one-shots. 3. After losing his mother and brother to an enraged Beastie, Simon has to venture out to stop the evil Piggy from doing any more harm with the help of his dog, childhood friend Ralph, and reluctant princess Jack.
1. Discordant Harmonies

**Discordant Harmonies  
**They are complete and utter opposites, but somehow they're able to make it work.

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_**A**__s Sir Isaac Newton has so eloquently put it, opposites attract and likes repel. Simple as that. It can easily be applied to the world of science, especially concerning subatomic particles; a positively-charged atom will be attracted to a negatively-charged atom, and vice-versa. However, when it pertains to a world outside the lines of science and theorems and logic, when it is brought into a world where rationality is subjective and anything can change, does the same law apply? Can opposites truly attract each other aside from the never-ending vector of our scientific minds?_

_Many stories include the cliché plot of the "opposites attract" phenomenon, where romance happens between the most unreal and contrasting people. You are able to find quirky, bubbly females falling head over heels for dark, brooding men. You are able to find the nerd falling for the jock. You are able to find just about any single mirror image of a pair of people in a story that will inevitably fall in love as the story progresses. The reasoning most people put behind this is because when two people are the complete opposites of each other, they tend to fill the void the other person has and is able to "complement" and "complete" one another in such a way that makes the two get along. However, it may be common in fiction, how does this phenomenon pan out in the "real world"?_

_Never had I witnessed couples that were opposites before. My mother and father are actually quite similar in every way imaginable, and even though they do disagree with certain controversial topics at times, they are still able to communicate perfectly. Likewise, couples around the school are, as I have observed, the same. They have many common traits shared among each other that, I think, attracts them to each other. I thought the phenomenon was a dud, then and there, until I heard the news a week ago: Jack and Simon are an official coup—_

"You bloody wanker!" a flustered voice came from the audience. It was Jack Merridew, red from head to toe, glaring incessantly at the fat boy reading aloud his essay (for show and tell, of course).

The teacher looked at him warningly for his unnecessary outburst. "Please, Jack, I expect more from you."

Sullenly, the redhead slumped into his chair but said no more. The fat boy continued on as if he were uninterrupted.

_For those of you who don't know who these fellows are, they are, well, possibly the perfect definition of the opposites attract phenomenon. Jack Merridew is a hotheaded ginger who is the head boy of our choir, gets angered pretty easily, and will fight with you about anything. He's tall, he's scary, and he's a ginger._

(In the audience, Jack opened his mouth to speak, but quickly simmered down when his teacher shot him another disappointed look.)

_Ethan Simon Peters, or as we all like to call him, "Simon," is a quiet and mysterious little boy with a big heart and a forbearance that can't be beat. No one ever expected them to ever become an actual couple, but they have. But naturally, the reaction of most of the student body of our school thought they wouldn't last for more than a day. They've lasted seven days thus far, and I believe that they are able to maintain it for a lot longer. They are complete and utter opposites, but somehow they're able to make it work. How is this possible?_

"_I like Jack because he's a role model to me," Simon, age twelve, said. "I look up to him… well, literally and figuratively, because he's always there and he's always perfect. He's just so strong and courageous, and he always does stuff that I would never even think of doing. He's just so refreshing and so different from me, it makes me realize that everyone really is different and unique in their own quirky way. I guess… we are opposites in our own right, but we're the same, too. We both love to sing. We both love history. We both love to sleep. So, even though we're opposites, we're the same, if that makes sense…"_

_Jack Merridew, age thirteen, stated, "I've liked Simon ever since I was six. We met at the airport, when his mom accidentally bumped into my mom. They became fast friends when they started talking about crocheting. We became fast friends too, and when we learned we would be living in the same town, we decided to spend all of our time together. Over time, I started to like him even more and more. He's so different from me, with him being a lot smaller and tinier than me. I just feel the need to protect him sometimes. He's cute, especially when he does that little puppy dog face, and sometimes he does that adorable hair flip to keep his bangs away from his eyes. And when we were little, he used to call me "Dew-dew"! At that instant, I knew he was for me. So I told him on Valentine's Day, and after a really long and complicated talk, here we are now. And even though we are opposites, like everyone says, including Ralph (who suspiciously keeps asking me about it) I wouldn't think of anyone else I'd rather be with. JM and ESP forever. Badly drawn smiley-face."_

"Oh, oops," Piggy said under his breath, looking at the ugly colon-parenthesis on his paper. The room snickered, and Piggy, not wanting to continue with the rest of the essay, looked at his teacher pleadingly.

"Uhh, thank you for that rather… refreshing essay, Philip. You may take a seat," the teacher said plainly as Philip nodded, trotting back to his desk. Philip Irwin Gerstein, or known as "Piggy" by his peers thanks to his rather convenient initials and his mien, was immediately surrounded by his curious peers, asking him if Simon and Jack truly were a couple as well as asking him about the sweet-smelling cupcakes in his desk. Piggy flushed at the positive attention, never having had any before the incident, but remained silent, watching the reaction of his other peers.

Ralph, who was surpassing a fit of laughter the entire time, was now on the floor, ruddy-faced and guffawing without a care in the world. Samneric were elbowing their redheaded friend in the ribs humoredly, their grins wide with malice. Said redheaded friend had his face planted on his desk, not wanting to hear any more of the scandalous commotion going around him. And Simon, who was blushing madly, looked tentatively at Piggy with big green eyes.

"That was… uhh," Simon said quietly, stuttering at a loss of words. "Well… really good, I suppose."

Piggy raised an eyebrow appreciatively. "Thank you, Simon. Though, honestly, Ralph wrote everything past the first paragraph. On his insistence, of course. Don't tell the teacher though. I promised him I wouldn't." Discreetly, Piggy whispered in the dark-haired boy's ear, "_I let him do it for his mother's homemade chocolate ganache cupcakes… with sprinkles_. Sprinkles!"

"Oh," Simon said, flushing even brighter. "I kind of figured. I wrote that in my diary, and the only person I can think of who would steal my diary is Ralph, Roger, or Samneric."

"Sometimes, that boy has no sense of morality unless I'm there whacking him in the head. Honestly, I feel like I'm his mother sometimes," Piggy said, shaking his head. "He stole Jack's diary, too. I didn't think he had one."

"Oh, me either." Simon laughed warmheartedly and stared at Jack, who still wouldn't dare lift his head up despite the twins' constant pestering. He then thought back to what Piggy had said in the essay, about Jack thinking he'd "rather not be with anyone else" but him. It was sweet, and it tickled his heart like no tomorrow.

Placidly, he laid his head down on his own desk and thought about the amazing phenomenon of opposites attracting. But then he lost focus and thought to himself out of the blue, "I need to read Jack's diary soon…"

* * *

**Mhmm, I'm actually not too fond of this one-shot because it didn't turn out the way I wanted to at all, but I did enjoy writing it. Well, mostly the Simon-Piggy conversation, but regardless, it was fun. :D I'll update this whenever I get inspired. Though, I do have several almost-finished drabbles already, so expect quite a few updates this week. Maybe.**


	2. flapJACK!

**flapJACK!**

Simon thinks that Jack is just like a pancake: soft and fluffy, a little bit hot at first but will cool down later, and absolutely irresistible in the mornings.

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When Simon first wakes up every morning, the first thing he ever thinks about is his breakfast. His usual breakfast consists of sunny side up, orange juice, and at least two pancakes. He makes his entire breakfast himself for the sole fact that he is an early riser, and the rest of his family still seems to be snoozing away, probably not waking up until three hours after the moment Simon opens his eyes. He never exactly minds, though; in fact, he actually prefers the gift of solitude he has in the mornings. He is, after all, someone who likes his own accompany as well as being a morning person.

From the moment Simon wakes up, he rubs his green eyes of any more sleep, and yawns. Then, he perks up all of a sudden with a large spurt of energy—he never really understood why—and slips his smallish feet into his favorite pair of fluffy red slippers. They hug his feet warmly as a way to say, "Good morning, Simon!" They are the only ones who ever tell him such.

He steadily walks into his bathroom, which is connected to his bedroom for his ease. He looks at himself in the mirror for a brief moment before brushing his teeth ("Remember to always consider hygiene, especially in the mornings, Simon," his mother, most conveniently a dentist, tells him habitually). After brushing every nook and cranny of his mouth, he walks downstairs and heads straight for the kitchen. Naturally, he begins cooking for himself, cracking eggs this way and that, flipping pancakes around. It doesn't take him long before he is at the table with his non-too-shabby plate of breakfast goodness in front of him.

Like always, he starts picking at his food. Not because he is bored or not hungry (oh no, of course he's hungry; despite his slim figure, Simon will admit that he enjoys eating) but because he likes to think of his food as his friends. A little weird maybe, but he enjoys linking objects to his friends and finding such to be eerily accurate.

He pokes at the eggs first. The eggs are always Ralph. Both have a bright, yellow, jiggly head and are completely and utterly white. You can do almost anything with an egg (poach it, fry it, scramble it, and the list goes on) and can immediately tell whether or not you like it. If you don't like it, you try another method of preparing the egg and stray away from the methods you despise. It is exactly like Ralph. The blonde seems to have all these sporadic ideas on what to do over the weekends. Sometimes Simon will like them, sometimes he won't. When he doesn't, he pretends he's either sick or busy that day.

The most obvious parallel of an egg to Ralph is that they're both so sunny and optimistic and always seem to make Simon smile. That is why he eats them first, munching them down until there isn't even a scrap left.

Afterwards, he downs the eggs with a good dosage of orange juice, which, Simon thinks, is like Piggy. Orange juice has a sweet-sour taste that makes Simon make a weird face. Piggy is sour most of the time, especially to the likes of Roger for some reason, as he always seems to speak to the black-haired, black-clad teenager with bitter sarcasm. However, Piggy has a sweet side to him, too. Piggy is always willing to help his peers regardless of the way they treat him, and once, Simon remembers the fat boy buying Simon lunch (because, unfortunately, Simon didn't have any money in his lunch account on that dreadful day). Simon had been eternally (well, more or less) grateful for Piggy's kindness. Though, every time Piggy talk about his conch shell collection, Simon can't help but make a weird face at him.

...That is pretty much it. Nothing else about orange juice and Piggy seem to correlate. Except, maybe, the fact that oranges are round and bulbous like Piggy, but Simon digresses.

After sipping down half of his orange juice (_the glass is half-full now_, Simon thinks to himself bemusedly), he stares at his pancakes. He always eats the pancakes last because those are his favorites. They remind him exactly of Jack.

Like a pancake, Jack is soft and fluffy. This can be taken in a personality-sense and a physical-sense. Even though the redhead doesn't act like it, Jack is a true softie—to Simon, anyway. Jack is never far from being a proper gentleman in Simon's presence, opening the door for him and helping him cross the street. Jack, although does get angry at Simon sometimes, always immediately apologizes to the small black-haired boy. Jack is the owner of the sweetest puppy ever, an adorable Jack Russell Terrier named Princess Peaches, and you can tell that Jack adores her very much from the moment you see how he treats her like true royalty. It just warms Simon's heart to see how loving and caring a tough-looking guy like Jack can be. Jack, in his own right, is soft and cuddly too, just like a teddy bear. (Simon especially thinks Jack's lips are the very epitome of softness.) Simon feels as if he can cuddle with the ginger every second of his life. He wishes he does.

Like a pancake, Jack is hot. At first, anyway. And Simon isn't talking about physical appearances either (though, to be honest, Simon does think Jack is quite the handsome devil, especially when he wears sleeveless shirts). Jack has a sort of temper that's even shorter than Simon is, and he can blow up faster than the Stromboli Volcano. However, it only takes the right amount of calmness and forbearance for Jack to cool off. Afterwards, Simon knows it's all worth the wait when Jack gives him that adorably ruddy and flustered face of his. The redhead gets embarrassed quite easily, which always seems to amuse Simon.

And finally, just like a perfectly golden pancake, Jack is—

_Knock! Knock!_

Simon raises a curious eyebrow and looks at the door, baffled. He doesn't think anyone else would be up at six in the morning, but the residents of his small English abode never cease to surprise him.

Slipping on his favorite fuzzy red slippers again, Simon walks up to the door and opens it. In front of him with the most mischievous expression is Ralph Lowell, or the "egg guy". Simon stifles a giggle and amusedly watches a dreadful figure behind the cheeky blonde, who looks just about ready to faint. In fact, the redhead _does_, indeed, faint, right into the ground. _Oh dear, Jack..._

Quickly, the black-haired boy gesticulates for the two to enter. Ralph has to drag the dead-looking ginger inside. Fortunately, Ralph is a tiny bit bigger than Jack, and Jack doesn't weigh all that much to begin with anyway.

"What are you guys doing here?" Simon asks, taking his seat at the dining table. The two take a seat as well (Ralph chuckles to himself when barely-awake zombie Jack still sits as close as possible to Simon, then falls immediately back to complete zombie mode afterwards) and Simon lets out a sigh. "If I had known you two were going to show up, I would've prepared breakfast for all of us."

"That's fine," Ralph quickly interjects, staring at the drooling redhead. "I'm really sorry for bothering you this early in the morning"—Simon smiles patiently, nodding his head as if to say it was no problem at all—"but I _need_ Jack for our science project. Piggy just told me it was due today, and we still haven't finished. It's all Jack's fault, telling me it was due next Monday and all. And plus, he was so busy with other stuff instead of helping me with the stupid fire, and that caused everything to be ruined. We needed the fire to get our project going in the first place. But _no_. Jack just _had_ to be a stubborn jerk." The blonde crosses his arms over his chest in contempt. Simon giggles.

"I could help you guys if you'd like," Simon offers cordially. "There's not much else for me to do this early in the morning."

Ralph's bright tawny eyes brighten. "That'd be wicked. But we still need Mr. Zombie Snores-a-lot here to be, y'know, _alive_. I was thinking you could wake him up." He grins mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. "I mean, considering he's a lot livelier when you're around."

Simon raises a small brow interestedly. "Mhmm, I suppose so. But what should I do?"

"Surprise him!" Ralph grins cheekily.

Simon nods, trying to think of the perfect way to surprise Jack. He stares at the snoring redhead whose mouth completely open (Simon suddenly remembers his mother telling him once, "Don't open your mouth too often, honey. It might attract nasty old flies.") with a short stream of drool dribbling out. Simon can't help but be entranced by the adorable display of a very vulnerable Jack.

…_Vulnerable_, huh.

With a devious plan hatching inside his innocent little mind, Simon creeps up to the sleeping redhead and starts heaving out slow, deep breaths into the shell of Jack's ear. A few moans escape Jack's mouth as he squirms slightly in his seat. Inspired by the satisfying reaction, he begins mumbling words he's heard the older kids use. Though he isn't aware of their true meanings, Simon thinks Jack might've, because the redhead started to moan even more often, squirming uncomfortably in his chair like an energetic little bear cub. _Gosh, he's cute_, Simon muses in amazement, wide-eyed.

Simon starts to feel a bit of adrenaline rushing inside of him. He doesn't know how it happened, but he feels a bit more courageous than usual, and a bit more risky as well. Maybe it was due to the fact that Jack is—as his evil, evil brain kept taunting him with—_vulnerable_ and oh _so-adorable_ in the hands of Morpheus. Regardless, Simon feels as if his body is acting on its own accord as his hands grab onto Jack's cheeks, pulling the placid freckled face towards himself. He scrutinizes his friend for a brief moment before tentatively brushing his lips against Jack's, once, twice, three times. The adrenaline-induced valor starts to shoot tenfold within Simon, and he kisses the redhead again, full on the lips.

The heated impact makes Jack jolt awake, his once-groggy eyes widening with surprise. At first, he melts into the kiss, thinking of it as a simple dream. But, when he sees Ralph out of the corner of his eye, he quickly realizes that no way in _hell_ was this a dream (Ralph is explicitly banned from any dream of Jack's ever since that traumatizing one about, err, handcuffs). So, he begins panic moment. He doesn't want to push the small boy off because he doesn't want to hurt his feelings. And, honestly, Jack rather likes the warm taste of Simon's li—no, no, Simon's five years his senior… he can't, he won't! No no no! Stop thinking such things, Jack! Come on, Jack, pull yourself together! Jack, Jack, Ja—

"Jack?"

Jack snaps out of his anxious reverie and looks at Simon, who is staring at him with a pragmatic expression. Jack blushed, embarrassed. _Oh_, Simon isn't kissing him anymore.

He starts to feel a little bit more embarrassed when he hears his frenemy's annoying voice cut through the air: "Wow, that was rich, Simon!"

"Thank you. My mum once told me that the best surprise she's ever given Dad is kissing him… when he was vulnerable."

"Vulnerable?" Jack echoes profusely, subconsciously touching his lips. He can still taste a trace of Simon on them, which strangely has a nostalgic flavor of breakfast.

"Yeah, vulnerable," Ralph says. "Geez, and I thought you were the pants in this relationship."

Jack wants to object to that statement two times ("I _am_ the pants in this relationship!" and "_What relationship_?"), but instead he tries to look at Simon for support. Instead of gaining such, when he locks his eyes with the smallish boy's green ones, Simon answers Jack's entreaties with a humble smile and… a wink. Jack just wants to explode. And Simon, ever the innocent one, childishly giggles out loud and leaves Ralph to his teasing and Jack to his exploding, poking at his untouched pancakes, which had cooled off by now. He looks at Jack and thinks he's the exact opposite, though.

Still, Jack is, Simon thinks, just like a pancake. And, like pancakes, Jack is _absolutely_ irresistible in the mornings.

* * *

**I haven't eaten a pancake in such a long time. My day-to-day breakfast is white rice and leftovers. Sometimes we order Chinese. On rare occasions, we go out to Subway. XD**


	3. Sing a Melody 1

**Sing a Melody, Simple as Can Be**  
After losing his brother to an enraged Beastie as well as his mother figure, Simon has to venture out to stop the evil time-traveling Piggy from doing any more harm with the help of his dog, his childhood friend, and a reluctant "princess".

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**PART I**

Simon wakes up to the sight of an empty bed next to him. _Huh_, he thinks to himself, drowsiness still invading his eyes. _He must be out already_. Despite his rather tired demeanor, he jumps out of his bed, inspects himself in the mirror and quickly passes on combing his tousled hair, and walks down in his green-striped pajamas. He sees his mother already at the dining table with the pleasures of simplicity in her eyes, her faintly lipsticked lips a small smile. The black-haired boy walks up to her, and she looks at him cordially, warmly.

"Good morning, Mr. Sleepyhead Simon," she says congenially, ruffling his dark bedhead. "Roger has been up for a while, playing with the Beasties."

Simon, quietly, nods tentatively and starts heading towards the direction of the door. _That Roger, always so full of energy_… When his hand closes in on the doorknob, he hears his mother gently call out to him, "Are you planning to play in your pajamas?" Subconsciously, he turns around and nods his head. She laughs warmheartedly and gesticulates to the stairs. "Scoot upstairs and change your clothes."

"Yes," Simon peeps out obediently as he makes his way lethargically up the stairs, back where he just came from. He doesn't take long to get ready. He inspects himself in the mirror again, taking out a comb from the drawer and combing through his tangled hair gingerly. Then, he carefully removes his pajamas and puts on a simple green- and yellow-striped shirt, a pair of dark-wash jean shorts, a clean pair of white socks, and jumps into his favorite brown sneakers.

"Lookin' handsome," he says to himself, almost inaudibly, as he makes his way downstairs again. He looks at his mother, who is busying herself with a little bit of crocheting.

He shrugs, not wanting to disturb her, and walks straight on outside. The nostalgic scent of his hometown swirls all around him, and he smiles placidly, looking around the entirety of his surroundings. The grass is lush and green and filled to the brim with beautiful sunflowers. There are a few farm animals, such as pigs and chickens and even the occasional cow, roaming and gazing around nonchalantly without a care in the world. And then there is a frog standing right there, between the weird grass-desert intersection of the small little town. Curiously, the dark-haired boy walks up to it and scrutinizes it: small, green, slimy, just like any good ol' frog.

But then, right out of the blue, it croaks once, twice, and says in perfect English, "a story is a series of memories. Memories are remembered with other memories, and in turn become memories themselves. If you don't care to preserve your memories, you'll forget them. So, please tell us frogs your memories of everything so far…"

Simon smiles gently but confused, nodding his head no. The frog croaks once, and Simon suspects that he may have been hallucinating the entire thing.

"Please be careful out there," Simon hears the frog say again. "Give my regards to the next frog you meet."

Simon thinks he might be a little bit insane, however he gives the frog a thumbs up and slowly jogs to the direction of the desert area in his quirky little town. Instantaneously, he sees his older twin brother Roger standing in front of a group of Beasties with steroid-enhanced energy, grinning from ear to ear and posture indicating that he's ready for anything and everything. He slams into the Beastie with all his might, and the Beastie falls down right on the ground with a strong roar. Simon gasps and walks up to his brother, a worried expression overtaking his face. But then, almost as quickly, the Beastie stands right up, unfazed, as if nothing had hurt him at all.

Roger turns around, huffing and gasping for air. "Whew, I'm beat," he says tiredly, turning back around to face the group of Beasties. "I've been play-fighting with the Beasties all morning. You should play too, Simon."

Simon looks uncertain for a brief moment. He is commonly referred to as the "scaredy-cat" of the village, not being able to do anything without running off like the crybaby he is. His older brother, on the other hand, is the most valorous and courageous boy that's ever walked on earth. He is a sort of daredevil that was willing to do anything, even when the chances were grand and risky. They are complete opposites, Simon concludes to himself, but at the same time, they are very similar to each other. They _are_ twins, after all.

Roger steps aside. "Here, try ramming into a Beastie."

With a strong breath to boost his lacking confidence, Simon rushes into the Beastie with as much strength as he mustered. The Beastie falls as well as Simon. Simons knows that what the Beastie did was on purpose, but he doesn't mind. He realizes that he is weak and the Beastie just pities him.

Nonetheless, Simon is having fun, so he continues to ram right into the Beastie with all the strength inside of him. Each time, the Beastie falls on purpose, and each time Roger exclaims an excited "Good job!"

Simon just smiles.

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_Dear Eric,_

_Just like you said they would, the children have been running around the mountains and fields tirelessly since the moment we arrived. Claus is as daring and full of energy as ever, while Simon is still a bit coddled. But neither one seems tired of playing at all. My father seems sad to say goodbye to his grandchildren after seeing them for the first time in so long, but we should be home by this evening. I had forgotten how nice and refreshing the mountain air is. You're always covered in the smell of sheep back in Coral Island, so I really wish you could have been here to take in this air. The next time we visit, let's ask one of our neighbors to tend to the sheep so we can all come up here as a family._

_Roger, Simon, and I were always thinking about you. When we get home this evening, I'll start cooking some of your favorite omelets right away._

_With love, your dearest Sam._

Sam looks at the note one more time then attaches it to her pigeon, sending it off into the skies. She looks longingly at the gentle blue skies, feeling a warmth in her heart being filled. She blushes deeply, remembering the first time her husband had asked her out, afterwards proceeding to watch the clouds together, and walks slowly back into her wooden home. However, she stops when she hears a weird buzzing noise from above and sees an indescribable object racing across the skies, turning the light blue she loves into a sinister grey.

She is confused and at the same time very scared. She feels a sense of foreboding inside her, as if the gravity of the object that just passed her would be prominent in the future. Fortunately, it passed by their little town without any wreckage in sight, and she sighs in relief, walking back into her household.

_I am being too paranoid. I suppose I should sit down and have a sip of tea…_

* * *

**Yes, I made Sam a girl. Sort of. :P**

**So, Mother 3 parody! I'm not too sure how many "parts" of the story there will be yet, but I do know that I will be having a ton of fun with this.**


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